The Livin' Is Easy

Boularderie Island delivers its customary, generous share of nature’s pleasures. Blessed by a run of sunny, warm weather, we make good use of the bikes, the Dalem Lake trail, and both freshwater and saltwater swimming holes.

One morning we had a lifer at Dalem, our first look at a spring peeper, the tiny eastern chorus frog that inspires poets and sets nature-loving hearts atwitter. We share the Dalem swimming spot with kingfishers, spotted sandpipers and, once in a while, one of the adult loons raising its brood in the lake margins. Were we in a boat, the loon would flee but it is bemused by a human head lolling in the water and permits a close approach.

Kingfishers and spotted sandpipers also like the saltwater swimming spot below the cabin, but there are others not typically seen at Dalem that provide an airshow as we swim: a bald eagle, an osprey, a great cormorant, sometimes even a wheeling gannet.

Along our road we see and hear birds: an array of warblers, goldfinches, white-throated sparrows singing with nationalist fervor: O Canada, Canada, Canada! Pickerel frogs, novel at Bigadore only two years ago, now flourish in the wet places along the road. Lynn and Louise, ever careful of the frogs’ welfare, leave at dead-slow speed when departing after dark. Not every driver is so mindful: we sometimes find a corpse on the road in morning, and grieve.

My great-nieces, 10-year-old Hannah and 7-year-old Sara, paid us a visit with their auntie and grandparents. A year ago, during the girls’ last visit, we had a capital time finding salamanders and garter snakes, sowbugs and spiders. Since then some misguided soul has taught Sara to fear nature. Now, for no reason she can name, the child is scared to death of snakes and spiders and recoils at the very mention of them. Someone is guilty of a crime and doesn’t know it. I will need more than a single day to undo the damage.

We made a roaring bonfire for the girls and other, adult pyromaniacs. Once the fire was reduced to coals, the marshmallows roasted and the fire dimmed, we regarded the Milky Way, our very own galaxy of perhaps a half billion stars, and the nearest neighbour galaxy, Andromeda. It is cheek-by-jowl by cosmic standards, visible to the naked eye if you know where to look, but still a very long walk: the light meeting our rods and cones tonight departed Andromeda 2.3 million light years ago. Inclines a fella to reconsider his importance in the scheme of things.

Monday offers another glorious night show: the annual Perseid meteor shower. It will be a dark, moonless night, the weatherman promises clear skies. Those among my local dearly-beloveds who value such wonders will gather under blankets on the cabin roof to revel in the show and count their lucky stars.